The 5 Times Ruth Tried to Write a Love Letter
by BossaNovaBaby24
Summary: Ruth gets some unwanted help from others when writing a love letter to Harry. Intended just for some laughs, humour and fluff. Harry/Ruth
1. Beth's Help

**A/N**

**I have found a note from the serious, emotional, well thought out part of my psyche. It said "gone fishin'". So, until it returns, I can only offer you all this. Not to be taken at all seriously, so any mistakes are meant in a pure nonsensical sense I am sure.**

**A 5 part story, title says it all.**

**I hope it makes you laugh or, failing that, I hope it at least puts a smile on your face :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or locations, they all belong to Kudos, Monastic, BBC etc. No copyright infringement intended... can you imagine the disaster Spooks would be if I was in control?**

**The 5 Times Ruth Tried to Write a Love Letter, and the 1 Time she Succeeded**

Beth pushed open the front door and breathed a sigh of relief as she entered her shared flat. It had been a long day at work; correcting a confused Lucas, placating a grumpy Harry, nodding dumbly at an over enthusiastic Tariq and fighting off the advances of a suave Dimitri. Day in, day out. Once during the day, when Lucas poked himself in the eye with his coffee spoon, Beth did wonder whether she was put here as some divine punishment.

_Home safe now, _she thought gladly and made her way into the living room. One of the lamps was lit up and Beth could see Ruth sitting on the sofa, back to the doorway, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper.

Beth rolled her eyes. Ruth had taken her first ever day off work and she had spent it... doing work. Typical.

"Hey Ruth," she called out. Ruth seemingly jumped out of her skin and dropped the paper and pen she was holding, pushing it hastily under the sofa she was sitting on. It slid along the hardwood floor, out the back of the sofa and skidded to a halt at Beth's feet.

Like a good spook, Beth leaned down and picked it up, perusing the contents.

"_My dearest beloved,_" she read out, frowning, "you writing a love letter Ruth?"

Ruth buried her head in her hands and Beth could make out a muffled response;

"The sofa has no back to it, does it?"

"Nope, sorry," Beth grinned and walked over, sitting herself down next to Ruth with a heavy sigh. She continued to scan the contents, "you've written this all wrong you know."

"How?" Ruth lifted her head up, defensive despite her flaming cheeks, "I'm describing how I feel!"

"I see," Beth nodded, "is this before or after you and Harry both elope over the hill yonder to Wuthering Heights?"

Ruth snatched the paper out of her hands quickly and hugged it to her chest.

"How do you know that name?"

"God Ruth, it's a classic. I'm not _stupid_."

"Oh yeah? Who wrote it?"

"... Kate Bush?"

...

Several glasses of wine later and both Ruth and Beth sat on the floor in front of the sofa, crumpled balls of paper strewn all over the place.

"_My darling?" _Ruth enquired, trying hard to coordinate pen to paper. It was actually harder than it looked after a whole bottle of Shiraz...

Beth snorted.

"Nnno," she slurred slightly, "thass like... thass too formal."

Once again, Ruth ripped the piece of paper out of the pad and scrunched it up.

"H-how am I s'pos'd to start a letter to my boss then...? One who," she paused to quell the urge to vomit, "who also happ'ns t'be the man I am in love with...?"

"You _love _him?" Beth asked, smiling drunkenly, "thass like a fairytale... but with guns and terrorists and bombs and stuff."

"...an' then Cinderella, in her hasty midnight escape, left behind her... crystal USB stick," Ruth started to laugh.

"and the prince, s-saw it and, and then he picked it up and returned it to the fair maiden," Beth paused dramatically, swinging her glass of wine and spilling some on the sofa, "as she had... a tracking device on her!"

Both laughed hysterically at the otherwise absurd story. Ruth was the first to sober up a little bit;

"That wine is going to stain our sofa."

...

"I think," Beth said aloud from her position upside down in the armchair, "that the letter should be... less formal!"

They were both still quite drunk, but Ruth felt compelled to clean the wine stain on the sofa while Beth felt compelled to ...hang her head upside down somehow.

"Believe it or not," Ruth waved a cloth at the younger woman, "it's not exactly an informal situ-situ," she sighed and tried to wrap her mouth around the word, "situ...ay...shun."

"Lemme write it for ya."

"You!" Ruth snorted and carried on trying to wipe the stain.

"Yesh, me, why the hell not me!"

"I've read your... letters to men who you bring home Beth."

"And what's wrong with 'em?"

"Somehow, I don't think 'show yerself out' will quite c-convince Harry of my feelings."

"It's short and to the point, s'all."

"Beth, you spell 'yourself' wrong in it."

Beth pushed herself upright and out of the armchair, stepping to the side of Ruth as she worked.

"Ruth, there comes a time in every flatmates life when she has to trust her roomie. Let this be that time, please."

Ruth stood silently and contemplated it for a moment, before saying;

"... You used that last week when you said it was a good idea to sell water on the internet."

"...I did?"

"Yep."

"Huh. Well anyway, let me do this for ya, please? I really wanna see you two together, you both deserve it... what d'ya say?"

Ruth sighed.

"Fine, you win. I trust you fully. Just... let me read it over before you go handing it to him."

"Ruth, you won't regret it!" Beth hugged her flatmate briefly before grabbing up the pen and paper.

"Why do I trust you?" Ruth grumbled good-naturedly, vigorously rubbing at the stain.

"I really don't know," Beth replied, solemn despite her tipsy nature, "I mean, you even trusted me when I told you that ketchup gets out wine stains."

Ruth looked at the red stained cloth, then back at Beth. It took a few moments and several more glances before she looked at the now ketchup-covered stained sofa.

Beth practically skipped out of the room.

Ruth buried her head in her hands.

"Oh shi-"

...

Ruth walked onto the Grid the next morning in sunglasses.

"Ruth, I hate to be the one to break it to you," Dimitri said with a smirk as he dropped a file at her desk, "but it's December."

"Yes, it is isn't it?" Ruth replied absently, taking her coat off, "are you always this stupid, or are you making a special effort today Dimitri?"

He raised his eyebrows.

"Someone's a mean drunk."

Ruth smiled apologetically;

"Sorry, hangovers aren't my thing."

"Say no more," Dimitri smiled back and walked off, hoping to catch Beth for some harmless flirting.

It was at that moment Harry walked out of his office, a serious expression on his face... _no difference there then, _Ruth sighed.

"Everyone, briefing room, _now_!" he barked abruptly. Ruth winced at the sound. How on earth was she going to last the day with this headache?

...

The briefing room was hotter than usual. As Ruth looked around, she wondered if anyone else thought the same. They all seemed to be in t-shirts, looking cool and relaxed. She made a mental note to ask about the clothing conduct. Whatever happened to suits?

_Harry wears a suit, he wears nice suits, _she thought to herself happily, _sometimes he wears suits with bracers... oh, don't go down that particular road of thought Ruth..._

Harry appeared at the head of the table, effectively stopping her train of thoughts, until she saw he was wearing bracers... _oh dear god..._

"I have had a threat." Harry announced, looking around.

Beth, looking a darn sight better than Ruth (who was still adorned in sunglasses) leaned forward, alarmed.

"A threat? Against your life? By who?"

Harry picked up a piece of paper off of the table and passed it round.

"This was sent anonymously to me in the early hours of this morning," he stated, watching for their reactions. Lucas glanced over it, his face a picture of horror, and pushed it roughly towards Ruth.

She picked it up.

She wished she hadn't.

Harry watched her closely as she scanned the contents. He wondered why she was wearing sunglasses but, looking at the rags the rest of them seemed to wear, sunglasses weren't the most surprising item he had seen someone wear in here.

Ruth clasped her hand to her mouth, fighting down the urge to vomit.

"Horrible, isn't it?" Harry said sympathetically. Ruth nodded blindly; it was all she could do. She handed it over to Beth who took one quick glance at it and passed it on. She looked unsurprised at the contents.

"I think the red patch could very well be blood." Harry said.

"Or red wine!" Beth piped up, before looking down at the desk.

"Red wine?"

"Well," she muttered, "s'just ... don't go being all pessimistic and assume the worst. It smells like wine."

"You smelled it!" Harry looked at her incredulously.

Dimitri was the next to receive the paper and picked it up, sniffing it.

"Smells like berries," he said aloud, "so we're looking for a murdered carton of Ribena if you're right Harry."

"Yes, well, anyway," Harry looked flustered but pushed on further, "if you read the contents..."

"I can't, Harry, it was just too awful!" Lucas shuddered.

"Hey!" Beth looked almost insulted, "it's not _that _bad!"

"I think it's in some sort of code, or another language." Harry sat down, waiting for someone to give a golden nugget of information that could lead them to the threat.

"Well, it's not Russian," Lucas said immediately.

"... It's not?" Dimitri asked, passing the letter back to Ruth, "then that leaves the Chinese."

"It's ... it's not Chinese," Ruth whispered, just enough for Harry to hear her. She shot a mutinous glance at Beth, but Harry was nonplussed.

"It's not?"

"No."

"Then we've hit a dead end. Do we even have any more enemies? Well, you're our analyst Ruth. What language is it?"

"I really don't know," Ruth said honestly, passing the paper back to Harry.

Beth gave a small indignant gasp and muttered, "Bitch" under her breath. Ruth kicked out under the table.

Lucas grunted in pain and clutched his shin.

Harry was ignorant to everything that was going on.

"Look here," he said, reading off of the paper, "_yo Sir Strutsalot of Hazza, methinks you a hottie, totally m'type. Wanna get down tonite? Call me."_

He threw the paper down, frustrated.

"If it's not a different language, it _must _be code for some sort of attack. "

"So we need to crack the code," Dimitri said, looking around, "and figure out the threat. Well, it's no good sitting around is it?"

"You're right," Harry announced and stood up, "right, Beth and Dimitri I want you to get on to GCHQ, see what they can do to help our situation. Tariq, I want you to ... Do what you do best I guess. Lucas, I need you to make us some coffee. Ruth, can you-Ruth?"

He looked concerned at his favourite analyst. She had her head buried in her arms on the table.

"M'fine," she muttered, trying to pull her head up. It felt so heavy...

"I think you need to go to the medical area."

"We have a medical area?" Beth asked, surprised.

"Yes, it's not used very often though. People tend to die, not feel ill."

"Ah."

"Ruth," Harry gently placed his hand on her arm, "are you sure you're alright?"

"I'll be fine," she stood up shakily and tried to walk out of the room with as much poise and grace as she could. Okay, so she tripped over a few chairs on the way...

...

Outside of the room, Ruth pulled Beth to the side.

"What the _hell _was that!" Ruth hissed indignantly.

"Errr, a briefing?" Beth answered, feeling confused, "it's where we meet up for the day and discuss a serious threat and how to tackle it. Unless you're Lucas, in which case you just stare mournfully into mid-distance I guess."

"I meant the letter! The letter!" only dogs could hear Ruth now.

"Oh, that" Beth frowned, "I know, right! Talk about insulting me. I mean, have they _no _sense of romance!"

"Romance! That wasn't romance! That was... delusions of emotional competence!"

"Hey, don't get smart with me!"

"Me! Get smart with you! Judging by that monstrosity on paper, even if I did you wouldn't know!"

"Wow," Beth put her hands on Ruth's shoulders, "you need to breathe, Ruth, before you burst a blood vessel."

"What the hell do I do now?" Ruth asked miserably, "He's going to want me to analyse and decode it and tell him that some country's top agents are out to bring him down."

"Well, you have two choices as I see it; either go in there and admit the letter was from you... or invent a new enemy."

"Admit the letter was from _me?_" Ruth asked incredulously, "but it wasn't! You wrote it!"

"Yeah, but if I say it's from me, it's going to go down a lot worse, isn't it?" Beth felt like she was explaining how 2 + 2 = 4 to a child.

"I guess I have to go in there and explain," Ruth whispered dejectedly.

...

Harry was taking a sip of whiskey when he saw his office door slide open.

"Knock Knock, Ruth," He said with a smile.

"Who's there?" Ruth stood uneasily a few feet away, confused.

"Wait... what?"

"Wait what who?"

"No, I was imploring you to knock next time, knock, as in knock. Not knock as in knock knock."

"So am I knocking or knock knocking?"

"No knock knocking, just knocking."

"Ah. Right."

They both looked on in uneasy silence for a few moments.

"You didn't understand any of that did you, Ruth?"

"Not one bit, no."

"Very well. Why are you wearing sunglasses?"

Ruth panicked for a second. Harry was smart. If she told him she had a hangover from too much wine he would add it all up and figure it out.

"Er, it's a woman thing."

"Ah," Harry looked suitably awkward and eager to change the subject, "right. Well, what can I do for you?"

Not as smart as he appeared then...

"It's about that letter..." Ruth shifted from foot to foot, fiddling with the pen in her hands.

"Ah yes, the threat!" Harry looked very serious for a moment. It was quite cute, Ruth thought, "So, where are we on decoding it?"

"Well, it's not ... It's just that ... I need to tell you that..." Ruth stopped and started, trying to gather up the courage to spill it all; How she wanted so desperately to tell him her feelings, but could only write them down, how she agreed with Beth's stupid plea to be the one to write it, how she thought about him every moment of every day, how she had sneaked into his office once and stole a tie, just to have something of his near her, how- no wait, maybe not tell him that last bit.

"Ruth?" Harry waited patiently.

Ruth took a deep breath and felt the words slowly making their way up her body, tumbling off her tongue without her being able to stop them;

"It's the Egyptians! They want you dead!"

**End of Part I**

**A/N**

**A few things I need to say;**

**Have you seen Harry walk? I think the nickname Sir Strutsalot is justified.**

**I don't know what happens, but the characters stereotype themselves like that when I start typing, I can't help it!**

**Review if you can please, it lets me know when I should just give up.**


	2. Dimitri's Help

**A/N**

**Wow, was REALLY not expecting that many reviews. Thank you all so much for them, they bowled me over! The origins of Sir Strutsalot came about when a friend and I watched Harry tell Ruth about giving a man a chance to show you who he really is. We laughed because the moment was a bit spoiled as he strutted off into mid distance! I do so hope you find this next instalment even half as funny as you found the first! I do not have the internet at home, so please have patience with me as I am uploading whenever I get the opportunity, thank you.**

**I really really hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Do not own them, never have, never will. All characters and locations belong to Kudos, Monastic, BBC etc. no copyright infringement intended.**

"It's been two days since the threat from the Egyptians," Harry said, "and I think I know what's going on."

Ruth quelled the urge to scream and run out of the room. That would look slightly guilty, wouldn't it?

"I think we've been played."

_Breathe, Ruth, breathe._

"I've had the note traced back, and I am horrified to tell you all that it originates back to..."

Ruth's stomach turned, while everyone else's stomachs rumbled.

"... The Americans."

Ruth let out a loud sigh of relief, while the others looked mutinous.

"You took our entire lunch break to tell us this!" Dimitri looked outraged, "I had a date!"

"Same!" Tariq spoke up, annoyed.

Beth snorted.

"_You _had a date Tariq!"

"Why wouldn't I?" Tariq asked, indignant, "I've had married women throw themselves at me before, you know."

"Uh huh, and what did Mr Pacman say when he caught you?"

"Shut up."

Harry sat down quietly in his chair, pouting. You would have thought his team would be more concerned about his life being threatened by such global powers. Maybe they were. _Yes, _he thought with considerable more cheer, _they are obviously worried. They just know they have to keep clear heads about it, it's no use panicking. _

Buoyed by the thought, Harry dismissed them.

...

Ruth was relieved as they exited the briefing room. It had been 2 days and Harry still didn't suspect that the letter originated from her. Two days and they were stuck in some awkwardness; they stuttered when their hands accidentally brushed, muddled their words when speaking directly to each other, blushed when they realised they had been looking into each other's eyes instead of listening to Lucas scream for help and back up over comms. The last one had been a particularly awkward moment indeed and Ruth promised to herself that she would listen to Lucas more when he got back from the hospital. All in all, one awkward love note later and they were back in the same position as before, except now slightly more paranoid of the Egyptians.

"Oi, Evershed!"

Ruth turned to find Dimitri striding towards her. When he arrived at her side, he placed an arm around her shoulders and guided her towards their respective desks.

"A spot of lunch and we can talk about a plan of action, yes?"

"A plan of action?" Ruth looked confused as she was gently pushed into her chair.

"Yes, I hear you need help writing a love letter," Dimitri replied sagely and sat opposite.

"Why would I need help? Why would you say that? Why do you think I've written one before? Why?" She didn't pause for breath.

"Ruth, that note was not a threat, except to the future of the English language. No one is that stupid."

"Hey! Harry believed it!" Beth argued, affronted, as she appeared and leant against Ruth's desk.

"That's only because Ruth said it," Dimitri explained, "She could tell him that Elvis and Joan of Arc worked together to sink the Titanic and he would believe it."

"Good point," Beth conceded.

"I don't need any help writing a love letter!" Ruth interrupted their arguments, her cheeks bright red at the thought of being the butt of their jokes.

Beth snorted in amusement.

"Ruth, your last attempt had historians excited they had found the romantic side to Samuel Pepys."

"Seriously Beth, where do you keep learning these names!"

"...Newspapers?"

"Anyway," Dimitri spoke over the upcoming argument, "Ruth, I think after Beth's obvious failed attempt-"

"-How did you know it was me?" Beth crossed her arms and watched Dimitri.

"The spelling. Last time you wrote something to me, you spelt 'yourself' wrong."

"Ah, right. Carry on."

"Thank you. As I was saying, I think Ruth you should let _me _write one. It's perfect if you think about it; I'm a guy, I know just what he would want to hear, plus I know what you're like so I can keep it very in character. What do you say?"

Ruth thought about it. The obvious answer would be 'no' of course. She didn't want to have to invent another enemy to placate Harry's paranoia if the letter ended up less than ideal (like before). However, she had to grudgingly admit that Dimitri would be a good choice to help her out. He knew basic grammar, knew both her and Harry enough to be subtle and _was _a guy. It would be a fresh new perspective on the matter. Was she crazy for even considering it?

Dimitri, meanwhile, leaned forward eagerly in his chair. After a few minutes of silence, he grew impatient.

"Well, Ruth, what do you say?"

"... Okay," Ruth answered uneasily, wringing her hands. She hoped she wouldn't regret the decision.

"Yes," Dimitri punched the air in triumph, "you won't regret it!"

Ruth groaned in frustration. Whenever someone said she wouldn't regret it, she always ended up regretting it. This was going to be a disaster. It was at that moment that something clicked in her head;

"Wait a minute! Beth wrote you _that _letter?... _You _were her 'drunken, not brief enough encounter'!"

"Thanks Ruth," Beth whispered, smiling falsely at Dimitri's look of outrage.

...

Dimitri growled in frustration and lobbed another ball of paper at Tariq.

"A few more failed attempts and Tariq's desk will look like a snow globe," Beth commented absently, feet up on her desk and report open but unread in front of her.

"How is it that you two are so bloody difficult!" Dimitri asked Ruth, exasperated. He had started thirty attempts, seemingly well or so _he _thought. Ruth, however, stood over his shoulder scanning the page, telling him to give up on every attempt. If this was going to work, he needed to distract Ruth away somehow...

"Hey Ruth, I hear there is a Tutankhamen exhibition on today in London."

"Really?" _Curiosity piqued. Perfect._

"Yeah, I was wondering if you wanted to go. I mean, our lunch break is in ten minutes. We can pop across, have a look in and be back before Harry notices."

Ruth's eyes lit up in unexplained joy.

"I would really like that!" she exclaimed, moving to grab her coat, "we can see the hieroglyphs and the mummified corpse, ooohhh and the sarcophagus..."

"Ah damnit," Dimitri dramatically dropped his pen on the desk, grabbing both Ruth and Beth's attention.

"What?" Beth asked warily.

"I just realised I have this damn report to write, needs to be in ASAP. Looks like I'm going to have to stay here..." he looked towards Beth who raised her eyebrows in realisation of his trick. _Oh no, no, no, no-_

"Beth!" He exclaimed, "You have a free lunch, maybe you should accompany Ruth!"

Ruth was too busy turned around putting on her scarf to see Beth stick her middle finger up.

"Oh, now, Dimitri," Beth all but begged, "I'm sure Ruth would have more fun with _you. _Why don't I stay behind?"

"I have to do this report."

"I'll do it for you."

"No, it's a report on the use of... boats... in Section D. You know, their uses on the latest cases..."

Beth opened her mouth and closed it several times, trying to grasp at a straw.

"Come on, Beth," Ruth urged excitedly, shaking her chair.

"I think we should tell Harry!" Beth blurted out. Ruth lost a bit of her smile.

"Why?"

"He might not want us to go. What if something happened? I mean, it's the _right, proper _thing to do..."

She hoped that the propriety and rule following would sway Ruth. She was right.

"I-I guess so."

"Yesss," Beth hissed and, upon seeing Ruth's confusion, elaborated, "yyeesss we should most definitely ask his permission."

She only hoped Harry would stop this trip.

...

"A perfect idea!"

"What!" Beth almost screamed, unbelieving, "How on _earth _is it a good idea?"

"Very smart on your part Ruth," Harry said with a smile, "getting to know our enemies and all that."

"The guy is dead, you know this right!" Beth cut in miserably, falling into a chair opposite Harry's desk.

"Yes, but the ancient world is the main influence on the modern world, isn't it?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell people for years," Ruth replied eagerly.

They gazed at one another softly.

Beth was stuck in the middle of a 'moment' with the prospect of spending an hour with a walking talking encyclopaedia at some dead guy's public remains. Brilliant.

She smacked her head against the desk in frustration.

...

Dimitri finally had time to write the letter. Ruth was out of his hair, as was Beth.

He grinned as he picked up his pen and started writing; Harry wouldn't be able to resist.

...

"Well that was a fun trip out wasn't it Ruth?" Beth asked lightly as they stepped through the pods.

"Fun?" Ruth asked, attempting to untangle her hair with her fingers.

"Okay, so we didn't get to see Tutti Frutti or whatever his name was-"

"-_Tutankhamen,_" Ruth corrected wearily, "and no we didn't. Tell me again why we had to run from that security guy?"

"Errr, that's a story for another time. Anyway, at least we got some fresh air when we had to split up and run for our lives in the park, right?"

"Yes, that was... interesting."

"Yeah ... Look, are you still upset about your shoe? I mean, it was that or your watch really Ruth. You should be happy that hobo took a shine to those. At least you won some money, right?"

"Beth, you bet me £10 that I was the only person in the world that liked my shoes."

"And you won. Be happy. I don't usually lose bets."

Ruth was saved from commenting any further by a grinning, triumphant Dimitri.

"Hey Dimitri," Beth said as she passed by, "Get everything sorted?" she winked.

"Yep," he winked back.

"If this is code, then our enemies must have a field day," Ruth sighed.

"Just gave your 'letter' to Harry," Dimitri informed her, "he should be reading it right about now."

Ruth sat down heavily in her chair and started to hyperventilate.

"Did you put it was from me?" Ruth asked between laboured breaths. Maybe she could get out of ownership somehow...

"Ruth, after what was written in _that _letter, there was no need. He'll _know _it is from you."

"And how did you give it to him exactly?" Beth was connecting dots. She was actually quite good at it when she wanted to be.

"I slipped it into my boat report folder. Easiest way for him to find it without anyone directly giving it to him."

Beth grinned. She couldn't wait to see Harry's reaction. She knew it would not be what Dimitri was expecting somehow.

...

Harry was shocked.

He held the letter in front of him, nearly against his nose in the hopes that he had misread it somehow.

'_Dearest Harry... I cannot help the way I feel about you... I needed to tell you somehow and, being the private person I am, I decided that writing was the best way. I hope you will not hold this against me...'_

Harry desperately looked at the folder in front of him again. Maybe he had mixed up the names. Maybe it was Ruth who had filed this report. He scanned the front of the report he had found the letter smuggled in.

_Dimitri Levendis._

He gulped visibly but could not tear his eyes away from the paper.

'_...I watch you from my desk every day, I cannot help it...'_

His eyes darted up and he caught sight of Dimitri at his desk. The man in question was laughing at something Beth had said but, almost as if feeling Harry's eyes on him, looked up and caught the older man's eyes.

Harry quickly looked down and cleared his throat. Didn't want to encourage anything...

'_I know through the years we've had our troubles, but I think it's time we put our past behind us...'_

Had they even known each other longer than six months?

'_I've been waiting for so long, Harry, for you to act on this mutual spark between us...'_

Dimitri had been after him for years? Impossible. Although, that might explain as to why he was missing a tie...

'_...I just need you to know that I will always be here, waiting for you. I will not give up, I hope you don't give up on us either. I love you and eagerly await your response."_

Harry dropped the paper onto his desk and sighed. He had to admit, Dimitri sure did have eloquence and style, but Harry had hoped that would be used in his reports, _not _in a sordid love letter to his boss. He couldn't blame Dimitri for the way he felt, after all he _was _an eligible bachelor _and _a knight. An impossible concoction to resist. However, it was inappropriate in the work place (which would always be his stance unless it concerned Ruth and himself).

He would have to do something about it and soon. This was going to be all kinds of awkward.

...

Dimitri had just finished disarming his last bomb when Harry strode out of his office.

"Mr Levendis," he stated, clearing his throat, "when you've finished your game of Minesweeper, would you please join me in my office?"

Dimitri clicked off of his game and switched his screen off.

"Sure."

He followed a very nervous Harry into his office.

...

"What do you think is going on in there?" Ruth asked, concerned. She, Beth and Tariq watched from on the Grid as Harry seated himself behind his desk, opposite Dimitri.

Harry's face was bright red. Either he was having some sort of coronary or he really didn't want to be talking to Dimitri right now.

"I heard Harry muttering something about a letter when he came out of his office," Tariq informed them, "then he drank three glasses of Whiskey, neat."

Ruth gulped audibly.

"Calm down Ruth," Beth whispered, "Harry always drinks that much anyway."

"True," Ruth conceded, "but he mentioned a letter. It's a bit more than a coincidence isn't it?" she buried her face in her hands, "what do you think is going on?"

"I think..." Beth replied, watching Harry's reddening face, "... Dimitri is going to be hit with a Sexual Harassment lawsuit."

...

"...and so, while ... Flattered by this, I must announce it completely inappropriate."

Harry wished Dimitri would say something, _anything. _It was awkward for them both, he understood that, but he needed some sort of confirmation that the young man understood his position on the Grid and why the letter was not welcome. Instead, Dimitri opened his mouth and closed it several times, doing a remarkable impression of a Guppy.

"I will let it go this time, Mr Levendis," Harry remarked, trying to do everything but catch his eye, "but in future I will not be so ... forgiving."

"C-c-can I go now?" Dimitri stuttered, his expression one of horror. Harry prided himself on still managing to intimidate his officers and command authority even in these situations.

"You may."

He had never seen someone leave his office so quickly in his life.

"Still got it," Harry sighed, self-satisfied.

...

Dimitri practically ran out of Harry's office.

"Hey Dimitri!" Beth called out, stopping the visibly embarrassed officer in his tracks, "how did the letter go down?"

Dimitri muttered something unintelligible and headed for the pods.

"Like the titanic then," Beth murmured to herself smugly and got back to her report.

**End of Part II**

**A/N**

**Do I dare ask people to review or should I run and hide now? **

**Please let me know what you think, it will help with later chapters. Who should we have next? Lucas perhaps?**

**Thank you for reading!**


	3. Lucas' Help

**A/N**

**Your reviews make writing this all the more fun for me, so thank you all very much! I am overwhelmed by the amount of positive reviews I have had! I would take credit for writing this, but it's writing itself and I'm just along for the ride I think. I am glad you are all finding it funny and I hope this next chapter doesn't disappoint ... much! Spelling mistakes (if I have in fact got names wrong) are all mine and I apologise! I know there is not a lot of Harry/Ruth at the moment, but I do plan to remedy it, just be patient with me.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, the locations, nothing, nada, zip zilch. It all belongs to Kudos, Monastic, BBC etc. No copyright infringement intended. Also, I have used a line from F.R.I.E.N.D.S in here, so I can't take credit for that one either!**

The next day came about too quickly for every ones liking on the Grid. Ruth had been at her desk since sunrise pretending to work. Instead, she had spent her time with a notepad at hand, intent on penning a great literary masterpiece to Harry, explaining everything. She had her plans set. She would write it, address it to him, post it and, by the time he received it, she would have fled to Siberia... because nothing bad ever happens there, right?

...

"Yeah, bad things happen there Ruth," Beth stated unnecessarily as she looked over Ruth's shoulder at the computer screen.

Ruth spun around in her chair, guilty at being caught looking at airline tickets.

"What? Why do you say that?"

"Apparently the Russians don't like us much and you will end up murdered in the back end of nowhere by the FSB," Beth shrugged, "plus its cold."

"Hmm you're right... I don't like the cold," Ruth replied absently, "why didn't you tell me before I clicked?"

"Sorry."

...

Dimitri wandered in, limping slightly. He had walked into the building, head down, almost as if by covering his face people would think he was a stranger off of the street who just happened to get on the Grid. It worked; security had tackled him to the floor.

After that little misunderstanding, Dimitri headed towards his desk while attempting to keep the weight off of his now aching leg. Beth caught his eye and smiled as he sat down.

"Does anyone know... about yesterday?" Dimitri whispered, worried. He would never live it down if people knew about the letter and what Harry had thought.

"I haven't told anyone," Beth replied innocently. Too innocently.

Dimitri decided to trust her this once and turned towards his computer. As he went to type in his password to log on, he noticed several keys on his keyboard missing.

"Hey! Someone has stolen my Y,M,C,A keys!" Dimitri shouted, irritated.

"Well I'm sure they'll give you another set when you're next there," Beth burst out laughing and high fived Tariq who stood behind her. Dimitri smacked his forehead. A Spook should have seen that one coming, surely?

Harry wandered out of his office, commanding the attention of his officers.

"I need those files on Abdul Khamun right now. He's our number one suspect on the Egyptian threat."

"Harry, he's five," Ruth piped up from her desk.

"Never are they more dangerous than at an impressionable age," Harry replied wisely.

"Now you mention it, I do often see Barney the Dinosaur teaching children how to make pipe bombs," Beth interrupted.

"...and when we have enough evidence on him, he will be brought in," Harry said dismissively, "until then, those files please?"

"I'll bring them in to you if you want?" Dimitri asked, gathering his files.

"No!" Harry shouted immediately, "Er, that is to say ... No thank you, I'm sure Ruth will be more than happy to bring them in."

He looked pointedly at Ruth and, as he walked past her, stopped and whispered;

"Make sure he doesn't put any letters in there."

The officers sat in silence for a little while.

"Right," Dimitri announced, intent of getting away from any further embarrassment, "I'm going to go meet an asset."

Tariq sniggered.

"Yes, ha ha, very funny," Dimitri snapped, "Asset, arse, gay, hilarious."

Harry had picked the wrong time to return it would seem. He stood, cup of coffee in hand, eyebrows somewhere near his hair line. He turned around and walked back silently. He never knew Dimitri was so overt about it until now.

Dimitri was oblivious to it and walked away. As he did so, he heard Tariq call out behind him.

"Don't forget to wake us up before you go-go!"

...

Ruth tore out another piece of paper. Why did letters have to be so hard! She had written journal articles, essays, dissertations on all manner of subjects and yet when it came to writing a simple letter, she had called upon the help of Beth and Dimitri. _Beth and Dimitri for god's sake!_

"I'm screwed," Ruth sighed, closing her eyes, "I give up. I'm going to spend the rest of my days singing duets by myself while eating ice cream and talking about the good times when sitting at home by yourself was seen as coy and independent, not desperate and lonely."

"You're not lonely," Beth interrupted her mournful soliloquy, "you have your cats, right?"

"Oh dear god, I'm crazy cat lady!" Ruth buried her head in her arms and sobbed.

Beth didn't know how to comfort her. She _was _beginning to become a crazy cat lady after all, no amount of lying could persuade otherwise. Beth had once walked in on Ruth playing chess with Fidget. What was worse was that Fidget won. Beth had always wondered how that was even possible, but the loss to a cat seemed to be a sore point for the super intelligent Ruth and she would change the subject whenever Beth endeavoured to find out how it happened.

Lucas decided to walk in at that exact moment. He was greeted by a sobbing Ruth.

Beth spotted him and pulled Ruth up instantly.

"Ruth, I have an idea!" She dragged the sobbing woman over to Lucas, who was just taking a sip of freshly made coffee. He suddenly yelped and put the cup down.

"Son of a-" He cursed, scrunching up one newly bloodshot eye.

"For god's sake, Lucas, take the spoon _out _of the cup!" Beth scolded.

"What do you want?" Lucas asked sullenly, regarding the emotional wreck that was Ruth.

"How was hospital?"

"Same ol', same ol'. They asked me who I was, I told them John Smith, an accountant who fell down the stairs."

"They believed that?" Beth asked, incredulous.

"Well, it took a bit of convincing," Lucas admitted, "it took a while for them to believe that I usually place a knife on the floor at the bottom of my stairs... point up."

"Wow," Beth winced, "so what actually happened then? I heard you screaming on comms."

"Oh, I was at home and fell down the stairs, onto a knife."

Beth stared at him, eyebrows raised.

"What?" Lucas asked defensively, "it's always handy to have one there like that just in case of intruders."

"You've just wasted ten minutes of my life, you realise that right?" Beth asked. On the upside, Ruth had regained some control of her emotions. She was leaning against Lucas' desk sniffling.

"What do you want?" Lucas asked. Beth never stopped to talk because she _cared_.

"We need your help."

"What kind of help?"

"We need you to write a letter."

"...A letter?" Lucas looked confused.

"Yes," Beth nodded, "a love letter."

Ruth looked at Beth, shocked.

"No!" She said vehemently, "no, no, no."

"Yes," Beth replied simply.

"Seriously? I mean, I have had both yours and Dimitri's help with this and now, thanks to you both, Harry is deporting every Egyptian this side of the Thames while avoiding Dimitri at all costs! What the _hell _will Lucas end up doing to him?"

"Hey, still in the room!" Lucas called out unnecessarily.

"Sorry," Ruth apologised quickly, before turning back to Beth, "I have had enough of this! I will go in there now and explain it all and _tell _him how I feel!"

"Okay," Beth said brightly, "go on then."

She stood back and watched Ruth. Ruth stood rooted to the spot.

"I'll do it, you know," she said shakily.

"I'm not stopping you," Beth smiled, "go, tell him. Go on."

"I-I'll do it, don't you think I won't." She hadn't moved.

"He's there in his office, not twenty feet away. Go on, go for it. Tell him."

"I'm going, I'm..." Ruth remained standing where she was.

"Are you quite finished?" Beth asked kindly.

"Yes," Ruth replied miserably.

"Good, Lucas we need you to write a love letter."

...

"You want me to write Harry a love letter, from Ruth?" Lucas asked warily.

"Yes," Beth replied, holding out a piece of paper and a pen.

"No," Lucas shook his head, "I can't. I never once wrote to the one true love of my life. She was the _only_ girl I ever loved and I was never good with words to her."

"Was it Maya?" Beth looked sympathetic.

"Okay, two loves," Lucas corrected himself quickly.

"What about that CIA agent, Sarah Caulfield?" Ruth cut in, confused.

"Okay, three."

"Don't forget your _wife, _Elizabeta or whatever her name was," Beth piped up helpfully. She was beginning to enjoy herself.

"Four," Lucas frowned. Maybe he threw about the word 'love' too often.

"Or that woman at the milkshake shop you always go to even though it hurts your teeth," Ruth said.

Fine, five! Five!" Lucas shouted, now agitated. He was _not _a laughing stock.

"Or that lady at the pet store that you asked on a date after buying seven tins of Winalot for courage!" Beth finished the list triumphantly.

"Oh I didn't know you had a dog," Ruth interrupted.

"He doesn't," Beth smirked.

"How do you know so much about my past? Are you spying on me?" Lucas accused Beth, his cheeks bright red from embarrassment.

"Ha, yeah, because that's _not _my job, right?" Beth replied, "And no, I'll have you know that Waterstones was closed and I wanted to read a Tragic Life Story."

"You should have read mine then," Ruth piped up miserably. She was checkmated by a cat, how much more tragic could it get?

"Already did," Beth said sympathetically, "Seventeen countries in two years? You sure give Lonely Planet guides a new meaning to their name."

"Hey!" Ruth was affronted.

"Anyway, are you going to help or not?" Beth turned her attention back to Lucas. He was sitting down, thinking it over. He didn't like to meddle in other peoples affairs, it was not in his nature. However, he would rather help Harry and Ruth along than be caught in their giant fireball of unresolved tension whenever it started. He loved his life too much to be killed by their dithering.

"What's in it for me?" Lucas asked.

"That warm cosy feeling of a job well done. You haven't had that feeling in a while I'm sure." Beth replied succinctly.

"Hmmm." It was worth a slow consideration.

"I'll throw in a Tesco coupon?"

"Deal."

...

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Ruth asked for the hundredth time as they watched Lucas writing on the pad of paper, his tongue between his teeth in concentration.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Lucas writing about love? It's like an Amish person in Powerhouse."

Beth stifled her laughter.

"I'm sure Lucas will do a good job," she reassured the shaky analyst, "he's been in love so many times he's at ease with it."

"This isn't exactly inspiring confidence."

"Sorry."

...

It was a few hours later when Lucas threw his pen down and sat back, a smile on his face.

"You're done?" Beth asked eagerly, swiping up the paper off of his desk.

"Yep, all done."

Beth perused the first page impatiently. It looked good so far...

She didn't have time to make it to the second page as Harry walked out of his office.

"Beth, you're meant to have met the potential asset twenty minutes ago!"

"Really?" Beth looked at her watch. _Shit, _"whoops! Time flies when you're busy, eh?"

"I've been watching you play Buckaroo on Tariq. It's not exactly hard work is it now."

"You've never tried hooking a spoon on his ear then."

"Beth," Harry replied wearily, "just go, please. He's waiting for you. He says he has information on the Egyptians and what their plan of attack is."

"Right, Harry, yes Harry," Beth rolled her eyes and picked up Lucas' letter, "oh by the way, I found this on the floor by the pods!"

"What is it?" Harry looked wary. Random piece of paper on the floor by the pod doors. It wasn't exactly going to be Nigella Lawson's new recipe for cookies.

"I don't know, but it's addressed to you." Beth handed it over, her expression one of innocence.

Harry took the proffered letter and walked back into his office.

Lucas sat in his chair, smug. He had singlehandedly saved Harry and Ruth's relationship, _and _got £2.50 off his next shop at Tesco courtesy of Beth, including 14p off of butter. Life was good.

...

Harry sat down, eyeing the piece of paper before him.

"Please for the love of god tell me it's not from Dimitri," he chanted quietly to himself.

There was only one way to find out. With obvious reluctance, Harry opened up the first page and began to read...

...

"Lucas," Harry poked his head out of his office door half hour later, "can I see you in my office please?"

Lucas looked up from his work, confused as to the summons. What could he possibly want with _him _after reading that letter? Besides, he wanted to get out in his lunch hour and spend his Tesco coupon. He sighed and got up, hoping that Harry wouldn't take too long to talk to him. Utterly Butterly went off the shelves fast.

...

"Lucas," Harry started, trying to soften the blow of the conversation, "I want to send you somewhere."

"Russia? Is it Russia? You always send me to Russia. Ruth can probably speak Russian too, why don't you send her?"

Harry didn't want to explain how he valued Ruth's life more over Lucas', so he kept quiet and glossed over the point.

"It's not Russia."

"It's not?"

"No. I want to send you to Tring."

"...Tring?"

"Yes."

"You want to send me to therapy?" Lucas was starting to get very confused now, "was it something to do with that letter?"

"Yes," Harry looked relieved that Lucas was cottoning on, or so he thought, "the letter opened my eyes... you are mentally unstable."

"What!"

"It's okay Lucas, it's-"

"-how did you even know that _I _wrote it?"

Harry raised his eyebrows and picked up the letter before him. He began to read;

""_My love for you is like that of a man's love for his wife. Oh why, Elizabeta? Why did you have to leave me? I know I went away for a few years but please, I thought we had something special, take me back! I love you! Please take me back! Why won't you return my calls? I write and the letters come straight back! What more do you want from me Elizabeta?_"

Harry put the letter back down.

"It goes on to ask a woman called Maya why she never texted back and why some lady in a pet shop quit her job rather abruptly."

Lucas fidgeted in his seat as Harry watched him in silence.

"Well I think whoever wrote that," Lucas said tentatively, "obviously got carried away in the idea of romance and love."

"Indeed."

"It happens," Lucas snapped defensively, "that's why poor Ruth out there is-"

"-Lucas," Harry interrupted abruptly. The man was getting on his nerves now, "you need help. Professional help. I'm ordering you to take time off and ... just visit Tring."

"I don't need help, Harry, I'm perfectly fit for duty. I've got over the rejections, really I have."

"That would be slightly more believable if you hadn't written eighteen pages begging various women to come back to you."

"Nineteen actually," Lucas stated unnecessarily, leaning over and flipping the last page, "but it wasn't my idea to write that, it was Ruth!"

"It was Ruth's idea?" Harry was slightly confused as to what _his _Ruth had to do with any of this.

"She wanted me to help write you a love letter!"

"... About your previous attachments?"

"Yes! I mean no, well, yes but-"

"-I think I know what's going on here."

"Oh thank god!" Lucas slumped in his chair, relieved, "I knew you would get it."

"Yes," Harry signed a form in front of him with a flourish, "two weeks in Tring for delusional behaviour and abandonment issues."

...

"Where did Lucas go?" Ruth asked, confused. He was escorted through the pods an hour earlier by two scary looking men.

"Tring," Tariq replied without looking up.

"Huh," Ruth looked back down at her work and shrugged, "okay."

It was only later that she wondered if it had to do with her letter. She dismissed the idea immediately; Lucas was long overdue a visit there.

**End of Part III**

**A/N**

**Please let me know what you think, I can be brave and take it, so please review while I ... Get a cup of tea... So err, yeahh... (Runs and hides)**

**Thank you for ideas of who could help Ruth next! I wish I hadn't written "5 times", there are so many that I hadn't thought of before who I really want to write now! Alas, 2 chapters to go! A bit of help from Tariq next I think!**


	4. Tariq's Help

**A/N**

**You guys are seriously great, you know that right? Your reviews make my day, they honestly do! I don't have internet so everyday I make my sister go on the internet on her phone to see if I have any reviews and today I really wasn't disappointed so thank you all very much! **

**Next chapter here... I hope you all enjoy it as much as previous chapters! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, locations etc etc. All of it belongs to Kudos, Monastic, BBC etc. No copyright infringement intended, I'm just having a bit of fun with the characters. Taking them out of their boxes and smashing them together and putting them in ridiculously funny positions, the usual.**

Ruth was watching Harry, her eyes tracking his every movement. It was like watching a ballet, she was sure. The way he glided across the Grid, gracefully sidestepping an officer. The rhythm he injected into getting a cup of water from the cooler; magnificent.

"I wish I was that cup right now," she sighed longingly, as Harry once again walked with such poise back the way he came.

Beth, getting bored with the mushy monologue, glanced up at Harry and snorted.

"What?" Ruth hissed, annoyed. Could no-one see the sheer romantic powers of that man!

"He's strutting," Beth replied. She turned back to her folders, amused. Harry could do no wrong in Ruth's eyes it would seem.

Ruth fell silent as she watched him walk towards her... wait, he was walking towards her!

"Shit, shit, shit!" Ruth cursed and threw folders open in an attempt to look busy.

Harry sidled up to her desk non-chalantly.

"Oh, Ruth! Fancy seeing you here!" he tried his best surprised but pleased expression.

"...it's my desk," Ruth answered, confused.

"Ah, is it?" _Not going to plan, is it Pierce..._

"yes, for about seven years now. Five of those I have actually sat at it... was there something you wanted?" Ruth decided to help him out, "I was just busy analysing reports on our Egyptian threat."

Harry looked down at the paper in front of Ruth.

"Those look like dry cleaning bills."

_Shit._

"Th-those _are _indeed my, err, my dry cleaning bills."

"Terrorism at its lowest level? Don't tell me they are smuggling uranium in through their cotton tea towels."

Ruth was saved the trouble of answering by Beth, her wonderful, tactful flatmate who-

"Ruth was watching you walk. She loves watching you."

Ruth made a mental note to kill Beth later.

"You were?" Harry tried his best once again to look surprised. In truth, he had hoped she was as he had put on his best walk just for her. Parisian Catwalk had nothing on Sir Harry Pierce.

"I, er, I can... well, yes I was but... erm," Ruth had turned bright red.

"Well that's er, that's... good." Harry seemed to stutter in reply.

They both stared at eachother longingly.

The moment was ruined by Tariq running in with a crossword in his hand.

"Hey guys, I got the last word!" He shouted excitedly, "the one I had been stuck on all day! I got it!"

Harry cleared his throat quickly, looking rather flushed.

"I should-" he pointed towards his office.

"Yes, and I should-" Ruth indicated to her folders.

"Well, yes. Good. Yes." With that, Harry walked away.

Beth sighed wearily. Another opportunity ruined. She turned to Tariq, who was oblivious as to what had just gone on;

"What was the last word then?"

"Cockblock!"

...

"-and so by deleting the files I could do it."

"uh huh."

"And then I simply transferred the data from his account to mine..."

"I see."

"...and then I brought about the end of the world with a pink wafer and a feather duster."

"Indeed."

"Ruth!"

Ruth's head snapped up and she looked into the hurt face of Tariq.

"You weren't listening to a word I was saying!" Tariq said sulkily.

"Yes I was!" She didn't want another Tariq tantrum on her hands, the last one cost them a laptop.

"What was I talking about then?"

"... facial recog?"

Tariq cursed inwardly. That was exactly what he was talking about. Ruth, meanwhile, sighed with relief. She was glad that was _all _Tariq ever talked about.

"What's got you in such a daze?"

"I'm not in a daze," Ruth scribbled out all the words on the notepad in front of her. Her letter to Harry so far seemed to consist of different variations of their names together. She liked 'Lady Ruth Evershed Pierce The Second' the best. There was no reason behind the added number; it just looked so much cooler.

"I know you're trying to write a love letter Ruth. Can I make a suggestion?"

"Tariq," Ruth replied, truly exasperated, "Beth somehow managed to turn us against Egypt, Dimitri has managed to write himself out of the closet and Lucas is in therapy. I don't need any more help, I fear the next letter will cause the extinction of some penguins in the bloody Arctic!"

She turned back to her letter.

"I was just going to suggest sending him an email," Tariq said innocently, turning back to his computer.

"An email?"

"Yeah. He checks them everyday, it would be sent from _your _email address so no mistakes and you can spell check it on Word. What could possibly go wrong?"

"Do you not know me at all Tariq? I can't leave the Grid without being kidnapped. Something will always go wrong!"

"Look," Tariq reasoned, "what if I help you out with it? Not write it for you," he added hastily as Ruth opened her mouth to reject the idea, "but let me type it out for you and send it. I'm a computer expert, remember? I send it and it will get there."

"Well... okay," Ruth acquiesced reluctantly, "but I will need to write it first."

Tariq grinned and went back to his ... facial recog thingy.

...

"And you're _sure _nothing can go wrong?"

"I guarantee it! What is the worst that could happen?"

"Did you know that Caesar marched on Rome because a letter by Pompey got mislaid and sent somewhere else?" Ruth asked solemnly, clutching her draft letter.

"Wow, really?" Tariq looked amazed.

"No," she admitted, "it's just fun making stuff up and having people believe you just because you can."

Tariq turned to her, shocked.

"What?" Ruth said defensively, "it's so boring being the most trusted member of the team. I've got to have _some _fun. Beth gets her guns, Dimitri gets to disarm bombs, Lucas gets to ... well he gets to look suspicious, you get your facial recog thing and I get left with ... what? Oh yes, books, files and unintentional innuendoes accidentally aimed at the boss. I'm not exactly going to get on 'This Is Your Life', am I?"

"'This Is Your Life'? What's that?"

"Nevermind."

Tariq took the opportunity to pull the letter out of Ruth's grasp.

"Right, let's get typing this..." he read the letter, brow furrowed in concentration.

"What's wrong?" Ruth asked, worried. She thought the letter had gone well...

"It's nothing, it's just... don't you want it to be a bit more subtle?"

"More subtle?"

"Ruth, you're declaring your love for him, not begging. You're not Lucas."

"More subtle? How can I make it more subtle?" Ruth started to panic.

"Don't worry," Tariq soothed her, "I've got the perfect idea to make it subtle and intellectual, without sounding desperate."

"You think it sounds desperate?"

"Ruth, your first sentence screams 'love me or i'll boil your dog and serve it to you on a platter'."

"I... I thought it was cute..." Ruth started to doubt herself. She was so sure she had got the letter spot on. Tariq, however, thought not. He was an expert with relationships, he came in every day bragging about some girl he went out with the night before. He couldn't possibly be lying about it, Ruth refused to believe he would.

"Trust me," Tariq said, "I know just the trick."

...

"Binary code?"

"The language of love," Tariq argued, "it doesn't reveal all to his face and gives him a challenge. He'll appreciate it Ruth. Nothing could be more romantic."

"Romantic! _Romantic! _Oh yes! 'Dear Harry, 01100101001110101'. He'll be a puddle at my feet!"

"I'm sure he-"

"-why don't I just go in there, stand in the corner and do the Robot!"

"because that would achieve nothing, now look-"

"-no! Why did I even bother? Delete it, _now!_"

"no."

Tariq put his arms protectively around his laptop to ward off any physical attempts to grab it.

"God Tariq, i'm not going to _steal _it, who do you think I am?"

Tariq slowly pulled away, looking suitably guilty.

"You're right, Ruth. I'm sorry."

Ruth took the moment of distraction to lurch forward and grab the laptop out of Tariq's relaxed guard. Tariq had reflexes quicker than anyone would give him credit for (he would probably not be able to stop someone from being kidnapped out of the back of a van, but he could play a good game of Tug of War) and grabbed the laptop. There was a generic back and forth between them, both intent on getting the laptop. Tariq, with strength even _he _didn't know he possessed, grabbed the laptop more fully and gave it one final tug.

The force detached it from Ruth's grasping hands and into Tariq's chest, knocking him backwards. There was a few moments of silence, both combatants breathing heavily. They weren't used to physical exertions. Ruth was the first to recover and, seeing a smug smile appear on Tariq's face, told him flatly;

"Don't be proud. I was beat at chess by a cat."

...

Tariq tenderly placed the laptop back down on the desk and looked at the screen.

"Uh oh."

"What?" Ruth asked warily. She didn't like the shock on Tariq's face.

"... the email sent."

Ruth opened her mouth and closed it several times, before falling into a chair. _Of course it sent, why on earth would I think my luck had changed? _She thought to herself miserably.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news?" Tariq ventured the question tentatively, aware that if ever there was a time for Ruth to have a breakdown, it would be right now.

"Good news," she whispered, her face pale.

"It didn't send to Harry."

Ruth felt an enormous weight pull off of her shoulders. Oh thank god, it- _wait..._

"It didn't?"

"nope."

"Then who did it send it to?"

"That's the bad news."

...

An hour or so later, the phone rang in Harry's office. He had spent the past sixty minutes worrying about Ruth. She had left for the bathroom rather abruptly a while ago, and hadn't returned. When he had gone out and asked Tariq about it, the young man had gone bright red and stuttered something about women's problems. Harry, feeling just as suitably awkward as a male tends to, accepted the excuse without question. It was only now, an hour later, that he started to think something else might be up...

He picked up the phone abruptly.

"Harry Pierce."

The voice on the other end of the phone echoed in Harry's ears and he recognised it immediately.

"Ah, Home Secretary, how are you? What is-?"

He listened to the tirade on the other end.

"-she what?" Harry asked, incredulous, "I assure you, I had no idea she –" another sentence in his ear, "no, I didn't think- I thought she- yes, of course I will. I'm sure it's all a misunderstanding."

He placed the phone down carefully, confused and shocked. _How could Ruth do such a thing as-?_

The phone rang again and he automatically picked it up, his mind still on Ruth and what she had done.

"Yes?" He heard the voice on the other end and groaned inwardly. _Surely not...? _"Prime Minister sir, yes I'm fine, how are you? My analyst? She ... er... did she? Well..."

...

Ruth was busy hyperventilating in the bathroom when she heard footsteps approach the door.

"Beth, I am really not in the mood for another joke about the make-believe Egyptian threat!" She called out sharply.

The cough on the other side of the door was distinctly manly... _oh dear._

"Make believe?" Harry's voice replied.

"Harry! I-er, I mean, of course it's real, it's just-"

"-Ruth, when you're finished I would like a word with you in my office."

"Of course."

When she heard him walk away, she slumped against the sinks. She had wanted to stay at home today and catch up on her reading (and definitely _not _watch Loose Women) but had decided to come in instead, intent on stopping some sort of crisis. Instead, she had caused it. Life really sucked sometimes.

...

Harry clicked play on the tape recorder.

"Ruth, I hope you know why you are here."

"Because I proposed to half of Parliament by email."

"Yes..."

"... in binary code."

"Would you like to tell me why?" Harry asked softly. He so very much wanted to understand why those men seemed to appeal to her and make her swoon and propose when she rejected him. Was it because they were politicians? He could do that. He hated their guts, but he would _try._

"To be honest, Harry, not really."

Ruth seemed to be taking the disciplinary hearing alot calmer than he thought she would. Almost as if she found it amusing.

"I mean, I know this job can make you feel isolated and lonely-"

Ruth bit back a shaky laugh.

"- your last hearing proved that much. I just want to understand Ruth, I mean..."

He paused, unsure of whether to continue. Ruth wondered if he was going to talk, to admit his feelings and declare his love for her.

"Harry?" She prompted him eagerly.

"I mean... they all have beer bellies."

Ruth sat in stunned silence.

"I-I'm not putting down your choice of men," he mistook her silence for indignation, "I just ... also why propose in _binary code_? Anyone would think that Tariq sent it!"

"Yes," Ruth replied sagely, "anyone would, wouldn't they?" _I'm in love with an idiot._

"I just want to understand what prompted you to declare your undying love and commitment to thirty different obese politicians using encrypted emails."

"It's not the kind of thing you could make up..." Ruth said, trailing off.

"It was a grave misuse of work time and operational equipment, not to mention exploiting MI5 contacts for your own personal ends," Harry didn't want to reprimand her... at least not for this, more that he hadn't got the email (and he had checked forty times, refreshing the page).

"Yes it was, you're right."

"Aren't you at all sorry?"

"When I realise this isn't all a really bad dream, I'm sure i'll feel sufficiently humiliated Harry. To be perfectly honest though, right now I'm expecting a giant Dodo to walk in the room and offer me a job on the A-Team. If that'll be all...?"

She moved out of her seat and left the office, leaving a shocked Harry in her wake. It was a few minutes before he turned off the tape recorder and pulled the tape out. If the powers above were to listen, Ruth would be having group sessions with Lucas. He destroyed the tape and sat at his desk, silence surrounding him.

"What the hell just happened?" He asked aloud, to no-one in particular.

**End of part IV**

**A/N**

**Reviews are very warmly welcomed thanks!**

**Next chapter there will of course be more Harry/Ruth and a bit more fluff, but I hope I will still manage to retain a degree of humour in it somehow! **


	5. Ruth's Attempt

**A/N**

**Last chapter for you all. I hope it still retains a bit of humour in amongst the fluffy bits! I would like to thank my sister for some funny ideas and prompts throughout the last couple of chapters! Oh and for the sake of this story, Harry's office only has one door in to it! Well, for the final time for this story; I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own characters, settings etc. they belong to Kudos, Monastic, BBC etc. **

It is a truth universally acknowledged that if you send out a coded email declaring your undying love and proposing an eternity together to half the political population, you _will _get replies.

...

Ruth turned on her computer.

_23 new messages._

She scrolled down, desperately searching for one that _didn't _contain "in response to your proposal" in the title. Stuck between a regretful decline from a stuffy Tory mp (he was already married) and an eager response from a sleazy Lib Dem, Ruth found a different email.

_Let us help spice up your love life with Viagra!_

_Great. _Ruth hit "delete all" and sat back in her chair, depressed. She didn't _have _a love life. It's like they picked her just to rub it in her face that she was single and bordering on spinster.

"Hey Ruth!" Dimitri called out as he entered onto the Grid, "I got a wonderful email from you this morning. Didn't know I made such an impression!" He winked and Ruth groaned in dismay, laying her head on the desk.

"Now, Ruth, it's not that bad," Beth said consolingly, patting her friend on the back.

"Not that bad?" came Ruth's muffled reply, "the prime minister wants to see me at 3!"

"To discuss the matter?"

"He's booked a suite at the Savoy."

Dimitri laughed, before quickly ducking as a book flew at his head.

"How was meeting the asset?" Ruth asked, eager to change the subject.

"Wonderful, he couldn't speak a word of English," Beth grimaced as she remembered.

"Did you get a translator?"

"No, I just talked a little bit louder and made hand gestures. Do you know how hard it is to ask him if there are any planned terrorist attacks by his own country using one syllable words and your hands?"

"... and did he know of any?"

"Of course not! The whole Egyptian threat is a load of bollocks, we all know that. So, on to more pressing matters," Beth sat down next to Ruth, "who are you getting to help with your next attempt at a letter?"

"No-one," Ruth stated flatly, "I've had enough of it all. _I'm _writing the letter and I'm giving it to him, in person."

"Wow Ruth that's brave."

"It is?" Ruth looked stricken at the thought of bravery, "maybe I should post it... I still have that ticket to Siberia..."

"No, no. I think it's perfect. At least then we can wrap up the Egyptian nonsense. Who knows, you and Harry might have a happy ending as well."

"Always the romantic," Dimitri interrupted sarcastically.

"Shut up."

...

Ruth clutched the letter in her hand, sealed. She shifted uneasily on her feet, her hand rising up to knock on the door. It was then that she realised she never knocked.

She pushed the door open, catching sight of Harry on his phone. He signalled to her that he wouldn't be a minute and she waited, wringing the letter in her hands.

"Yes sir, no I don't know if she will," he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "I guess you'll have to wait for her email... if you'll excuse me, I really have to go."

He slammed the phone down.

"That is the fifth call this morning about you," he told her, annoyed, "I don't know whether I'm running MI5 or a bloody dating service!"

Ruth clutched the letter tighter, maybe it was a bad time...

"Can you believe that he wanted to know your favourite flowers?" Harry carried on, oblivious to the uneasy Analyst.

"Daffodils."

"What?" Harry looked at her, confused.

"Nothing," Ruth shook her head. She slowly extended her hand with the letter, "this is for you."

"Please tell me it's not from Dimitri."

"It's not."

"Oh good. No wait, it's not from Lucas is it? I got a god awful drawing in the post from him yesterday. A house and stick people with a bright yellow sun. God knows what they do in Tring..."

"It's not from him either... I-it's from me."

"... From you?"

"Yes."

Harry moved to open it but Ruth stopped him.

"No! Don't open it now!"

"Okay..." Harry placed it in his desk drawer and pulled a file towards him.

"But, er, don't leave it too late to read it!" Ruth said, worried that he would forget about it and she would be forced to live the rest of her life wondering what could have been as she watched Bridget Jones on repeat.

"So ... you want me to read it now but _not _read it now?"

"Exactly!" Ruth was relieved that Harry understood.

Harry didn't understand.

"Ruth I don't understand," he took the letter back out of the drawer, "what is so important about this letter?"

_My future is in that envelope. _Did that sound too melodramatic? Ruth didn't know how to reply, so instead she said nothing.

Harry slowly tore the envelope open and it was that moment that nerves got the better of Ruth. He would reject her, which would finish her off, she couldn't-

She lunged over the desk and tried to snatch the letter out of Harry's hands. He pulled back with equal force and they were both battling for possession.

...

"So ... he tells us to stop acting childish and do work and yet Harry is in there playing Tug of War with Ruth?" Dimitri asked, watching the scene in the office with rapt attention.

Beth watched them both pulling and twisting the paper between them.

"Yep, that's the extent of it."

"Should we do something about it?"

"I think so ... I put a tenner on Ruth."

"I'm stuck with Harry?" Dimitri asked, outraged, "I might as well back a comatose person."

"Bad loser Dimitri?" Beth smirked, before turning back to watch the fight.

...

Both were blue in the face. Both were aching and tired and out of breath. Both were not physically fit enough to carry it on. It was just as well when the paper tore in half. They fell backwards; Harry into his chair and Ruth onto the... floor.

Ruth scrambled on the floor and picked up her half of crumpled paper, looking at it. She breathed a sigh of relief, while Harry read his in confusion.

"Ruth, what does 'I –ve –u –rry m-?' mean?"

She so desperately wanted to blame the Egyptians somehow. But that would be immoral, right?

She had her half of the letter gripped in her hand. It was then that she realised; she had spent the past few days so desperate to tell Harry how she felt and now the opportunity was within her reach and instead she shied away from it. She was being stupid.

"Do you have any sellotape?" Ruth asked shakily. She would put it back together. He would finally know the truth.

Harry opened his desk drawer.

"No," he replied at last, "but I have some pritt stick?"

"It won't quite work the same way to put it together."

"You could stick both pieces close together on a sugar paper backing."

"What are we? Four?"

Harry slammed his drawer closed.

"No pritt stick for you then."

"Fine. Give me the damn glue!"

...

"Ruth, what are you doing?" Beth watched as Ruth got a piece of paper stuck to her finger.

"I'm-" she tore the paper off abruptly, "-giving Harry the letter!"

"... On pink sugar paper backing?"

"Yes," Ruth's tongue was stuck between her teeth in concentration as she successfully stuck down the second half of the letter, "it's nice to have a bit of decoration, don't you think?"

"I guess," Beth looked at it with distaste, "and why did you feel the need to add glitter?"

Ruth looked down at the glitter she had sprinkled over it.

"Wow," she looked confused, "I can't remember putting that on. The four year old in me must have taken over."

...

Ruth wandered back in, a fresh letter in her hand.

"What happened to the whole sugar paper idea?" Harry asked as he accepted the letter.

"Beth and I argued over the crinkle cut scissors. She crinkle cut it up."

"... Er, I'm sorry to hear that."

"Oh, that's fine," Ruth waved her hand dismissively, "I got my revenge. You should see her hair."

Harry decided not to pursue the subject. He went to open the letter.

"No, wait!" Ruth stopped him, her hand covering his. The warmth from her skin permeated through to him and he felt a smile tug at his lips, "don't open it until I'm out of the room, please?"

Harry acquiesced and put the letter on his desk.

"Thank you," Ruth said gently and turned around to walk out of his office.

Harry wanted desperately to call her back in, to hold her hand again and never let go. He also wanted to tell her that the back of her hair looked like someone had gone over it with a crinkle cut lawnmower. Instead, he let her go.

He opened the letter slowly, savouring the moment. Just as he pulled the paper out, the moment was ruined as a shriek cut through the air;

"Ruth! What the hell have you done to my hair!"

...

"Is he reading it? Is he reading it? Please tell me he's reading it," Ruth repeated over and over again, her back to Harry's office.

Beth just glared as she tied her newly cut hair into a ponytail. Dimitri put down his Dandy comic and looked past Ruth into the office.

"Yep, he's reading it."

"Oh, good ... that's good. What's his expression?" Ruth asked, worried, "good? Bad? Indifferent?"

"Like a bulldog chewing a wasp."

"What?" Ruth looked on the verge of fainting.

"Relax, Ruth," Dimitri laughed, turning back to his comic, "he's just stood up, he's coming this way."

"Really? Oh god, oh god," Ruth looked around wildly, "everyone look nonchalant! None of you know what's going on, everyone play it cool, right?"

"Ruth?" Harry's voice echoed across the Grid.

She visibly jumped and spun around, her voice several octaves higher than usual.

"Yes, Harry?" She squeaked, shaking like a leaf.

"Can I see you in my office please?" With that, he turned and walked back into his office.

"So much for playing it cool," Beth muttered, "you would have looked relaxed in amongst some Meerkats."

Before any of them could start quoting the Compare The Market advert to her, Ruth walked towards Harry's office.

...

"Do you think they'll finally get their acts together?" Dimitri asked, watching Harry and Ruth sit down opposite each other in his office.

"When pigs fly and Tariq gets a girlfriend," Beth replied, amused. She too was watching what was going on.

"Hey, shut up!" Tariq rebuked her, looking up from his laptop.

"Do you think we should help them along? I mean, the letter she gave him probably details how Ovid was exiled for writing subversive love poetry."

"Seriously Beth, where do you learn these names!" Dimitri asked.

"... books?"

"The only book you've finished in your life is a colouring book!"

"Fine! I hacked into Ruth's account and browsed her Wikipedia bookmarks so I could say intelligent things and freak her out, okay!"

"Anyway," Tariq tried to get them all back on track, "how are we going to help them out?"

"Beth will no doubt have a stupid plan."

"Shut up! ... but now you mention it..."

...

"You wanted to see me?"

Harry looked over at Ruth. She looked beautiful; hair crinkle cut, glitter all over her, pritt stick sticking various bits of paper to her face. Magnificent. An arts 'n' crafts angel.

"Yes," he looked down at the open letter in front of him, "I thought we should... discuss... this."

Ruth shifted nervously in her seat. She had laid her heart on the line when she had written it. She hoped he would reciprocate.

"Ruth," Harry said gently, "I-"

They both paused as they heard the click of a lock. Harry looked at his door, confused.

"What the hell...?" He stood up and walked over, pulling at the door handle. The door didn't budge.

Ruth looked out the glass of his office and saw Beth and Dimitri running out of the Pods, laughing as they went. _Oh for f-_

"It's locked."

_Thank you Captain Obvious, _Ruth bit back her sharp retort.

"Hang on," she said aloud, "surely you should be able to unlock it from the inside as well? "

"You'd think," Harry said pleasantly enough. It was almost as if this wasn't the first time he had been locked in.

Ruth then remembered the EERIE exercise. He had pretended to be infected with a virus and was quarantined by Tom. She looked at him as he pulled harder on the door. Nothing.

"If you start coughing, I'm breaking through this glass," Ruth said calmly.

...

The rest of the team took the opportunity to go for lunch.

"Do you think we should really be at the pub when we've just trapped our boss and senior analyst in a small room together?" Dimitri asked, ordering a pint.

"They'll get over it," Beth assured him, "besides, even if they don't... I have Ruth's ticket to Siberia."

...

Ruth looked over to the other side of the office.

"Harry," she piped up as Harry gave one final tug of the handle, "you have another door on the other side of the room. Why don't we just use that?"

Harry pulled back and wiped his forehead.

"It's painted on."

"what?"

"It's painted on. The decorators thought it would be aesthetically pleasing."

"Right," Ruth paused, unsure of how to continue, "... and is it?"

"not right now, no."

"Ah."

"Well, it looks like we won't be getting out for a while," Harry said and moved back to his chair, "so I guess we can take this time to discuss your letter."

Ruth audibly gulped. Talking to Harry about her feelings with an easy exit was one thing. Trapped in a room with him and forced to talk about said feelings like two completely emotionally competent people was another.

...

Harry re-read the letter again. It gave him courage.

"Your letter," he stated matter-of-factly, "is it true?"

"err y-yes, yes it is," Ruth fiddled with her bracelet, "I err, well I needed to tell you it."

"You want me to be your sugardaddy?"

"Wait, what?" Ruth looked shocked, "I didn't write that!"

Harry looked down at the piece of paper in front of him.

"Ah, yes," he said apologetically, "my mistake, it's just junk mail. I did wonder why you also wanted to sell me cheap car insurance."

He pulled out Ruth's actual letter. It was decorated around the outer edge, crinkle cut. He smiled at the words. When it came down to it, Ruth liked to keep her letter simple with just three words; _I love you._

"You love me?" A smile crept onto Harry's face and his voice softened.

"Yes, I do," Ruth gained confidence from his positive reaction, "I have spent the last few days trying to tell you. I-I realise now that ... well, I want to be happy, Harry."

"Well, that's... I, erm, I'm glad you feel this way," He didn't know how to vocalise wanting to jump on the table and do a victory dance that would embarrass every dad at a wedding out there, "very glad."

"Good. That's ... well that's very good. It _is _good, isn't it?"

"Yes! Definitely good."

There were a few minutes awkward silence where both wondered what to say next. The silence was actually painful in its discomfit.

"Dinner!" Harry suddenly shouted, as if romantically enlightened.

Ruth looked at her watch.

"What about it? It's only just gone half 1."

"No, erm, Dinner. With me."

"Oh! Right. Yes. Have you booked a table somewhere?"

"I know last time I was presumptuous Ruth, but to have booked a table tonight I would have had to have been a mind-reader."

"Good point."

"I'll book a table for tonight."

Ruth nodded eagerly before they both lapsed into silence once more.

"...should I burn the letter?" Harry asked gently, "I would hate for you to be ridiculed for it."

"Do you know what I went through to get this letter to you, Harry?" Ruth asked, "A case of a mistaken threat by Beth, mistaken identity by Dimitri, mistaken admittance to Tring by Lucas and a mistaken proposal to the majority of the House of Commons by Tariq. I really don't care what others think anymore. I just want to be with you."

They both smiled at each other. It had taken them so long to get to this moment.

"Wait a minute," Harry suddenly frowned, "what have Beth, Dimitri, Lucas and Tariq got to do with this?"

_Shit._

"Now," Ruth said, "don't be mad..."

...

Beth unlocked the door and slid it open. She walked in on Harry and Ruth sitting opposite each other, not a hair out of place.

"Are you kidding me!"

Both turned to look at the blonde. Dimitri wandered in behind her, excited.

"What's going on? Have you caught them-?"

He saw both Harry and Ruth sitting ten feet apart.

"Wow, you two sure are wild," Dimitri rolled his eyes and walked back out.

"Seriously?" Beth asked, annoyed, "we lock you in a room together for two hours, just you two, and you spend it ... sitting opposite each other silently!"

"Who said that we've spent the entire time sitting silently?" Ruth replied, a blush making its way across her cheeks at what Beth was suggesting they should have been doing.

"Ooo, really?" Beth looked excited, "so what have you two been up to then?"

"We played Scrabble."

...

As they all traipsed out of the office, Beth hung back to talk to Ruth.

"So, you finally wrote a letter?" Beth whispered to her as they walked.

"Yes," Ruth replied happily, "and we're going out for dinner tonight."

"Go you! Can I read the letter?"

Ruth smiled mysteriously.

"No."

Beth was about to whine, pout and throw a tantrum but was interrupted by Harry.

"Beth," he sidled up beside her, "I was wondering if you would meet with Abdul Khamun today."

"The five year old Egyptian? Why?" She had better things to do than take a little kid around London.

"I think, seeing as the entire threat of Egypt was in fact a badly written love letter from yourself, you should be the one to make it up to the poor boy."

"Fine!" Beth groaned in annoyance, "I'll take him to the nearest Krispy Kremes and buy him a doughnut."

"Actually, I have better plans for you both."

Beth muttered darkly and stalked off, leaving Ruth trying to stifle her laughter.

"Now, I should probably get Lucas out of Tring," Harry realised.

"Surely another week can't hurt him? I think he really should be there." Ruth said, trying to be polite as she could.

"True," Harry conceded, "but he's there under false pretences."

"Now, you see, I really don't think he is."

...

Later that evening, Harry rang the doorbell, nervously clutching the daffodils in his hand.

Ruth answered hurriedly, dressed up and ready, and graciously accepted the flowers.

"Sorry, I was just deleting emails!"

"Any good ones?"

"The married Tory MP ended his marriage so he could apparently elope with me to Barbados."

"Well he's sure going to be disappointed."

"That's what I thought. He phoned me, but I think he's got over it now. Said something about one of the Cheeky Girls still being available."

They both walked towards his car.

"I hope Beth is alright," Ruth suddenly said.

"Hmm?" Harry was too busy enjoying his time with Ruth to take in what was being said.

"I haven't seen her all day."

"She'll turn up, I'm sure."

...

_Stupid Egypt, stupid Harry, stupid love letter, stupid MI5._

Beth sat scowling, ice cream in hand as they reached the top of the Ferris wheel.

The little boy next to her was screaming delightedly, looking at the view.

"When this ride is over, can we go on the Mickey Mouse rollercoaster!" The boy asked eagerly, "please, please, please, please!"

"I swear I will lift this bar in a minute!" Beth threatened. That shut the boy up. No wait, it made him cry.

"Oh great..." Beth closed her eyes and wished the day would be over as quickly as possible. She wanted to go home. Sending her to Disneyland Paris with a five year old was punishment enough, so _why _Harry had felt the need to feed the boy fruit pastilles and smarties just before they got on the plane was beyond her. That was just cruel. What made it, if possible, even worse was-

"- I want to go on the Mickey Mouse rollercoaster too!" Lucas interjected from her left, holding onto the bar in front excitedly.

She didn't know what the hell had happened to Lucas in Tring, but she didn't want to.

**End **

**Well, there we go! I hope you've enjoyed it, it was meant to be light-hearted and amusing, so I hope it lived up to both!**

**One final review to let me know if you enjoyed it or not would be warmly welcomed, thank you all so much for reading! Any criticisms, let me know, so in future stories I can avoid it!**


End file.
